


Pies and Perils

by cutglasscaress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Attempt at Non-Consensual Bonding, Fairly Fluffy, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutglasscaress/pseuds/cutglasscaress
Summary: “Look, I know sentinels get this...” – he waved vaguely between them – “feeling when they sense a guide, but let’s face it, you are a cop and I’m a thief.  I don’t see how this can possibly work.”Dean has no interest in being a guide.  And there is no way Castiel can convince him otherwise.  No.Way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the sentinel/guide trope and thought Destiel could do with a little more of it. I’m planning to update once a week, health permitting.

Dean tapped the steering wheel of his baby in time with the tune playing in his head. He waited until the end of the song to check his watch again, then shifted in the seat, trying to release the tension in his muscles. Waiting was a bitch.

At last he spotted a faint light approaching the end of the drive, soon followed by the black bulk of an SUV, the boring, safe trademark car of Mr Novak senior. It slowed down just before taking the right into the dark country road, revealing in its wake the next vehicle, a silver hybrid monstrosity driven by Castiel Novak, chosen purely for its sentinel friendly features and therefore being a butt ugly piece of work. Next came Michael’s red convertible Ferrari, and bringing up the rear was the flashy yellow Lamborghini Aventador that Gabriel drove. There was a surge of admiration for such a beauty, and then a twinge of shame at admiring another car while sitting in the Impala. He guiltily stroked the dashboard and whispered a few endearments to his baby.

He waited until he was aware of nothing but the quiet of the night, then turned the key in the ignition and eased himself onto the road from his hiding place. He made the right turn into the Novak drive, lights still off, and slowly followed the gravelled path right up to the mansion. The clear night and the white track were enough for him to spot his prearranged hiding place easily and he slipped his baby in place.

The mansion was reassuringly dark and welcoming. As it should be, considering Dean had been studying the Novaks for weeks. So far their behaviour had played right into his plan. Creatures of habit were the best. Tonight was the biannual Novak dinner, which as far as Dean could tell was an opportunity for the family to celebrate all successes and generally slap each other on the back. Because it was so hard to be successful when you were already rolling in it. Dean grinned while he expertly disabled the alarm system before tackling the lock. There would be a little less to roll in once tonight was over.

He eased himself into the atrium, and blessed that pretentious interior design article for giving him such an insight into the layout of the mansion ( _seriously though, atrium, what the fuck?_). He didn’t know where the safe was located, but if Dean had learnt anything about the rich was their serious lack of imagination and their pathological innate complacency. They didn’t actually expect anyone to get through the security.

But Dean’s skill set was impressive and Bobby had made sure he learnt all he could from him. Dean switched on his torch, angling it low to avoid possible detection, but this was just a precaution. The Novak mansion stood in its own grounds, proudly isolated. He made his way quickly to the first possible location, the pater familias’ office ( _yeah, that writer seemed to have a boner for all things Roman_ ).

One flight up the marble staircase ( _frikking marble_ ), then the third door on the left wing. It wasn’t even locked. Dean shook his head as he entered, a lopsided smirk on his face. A plain room with minimum furniture, nothing to distract the occupant from work. A beautiful old oak desk ( _hey, I can appreciate the nicer things_ ) with a modern comfortable chair behind it, all ergonomic lines and shit. Two easy chairs facing the desk at an angle, not too formal. Oak bookcases lining two walls from floor to ceiling ( _Sammy would love this place_ ).

And what looked to be a drinks cabinet behind the desk. Except Dean knew Mr Novak senior prided himself on not touching the stuff, kept harping on about his youthful looks being due to a sober life and exercise and yada yada yada. Unless he was a total hypocrite (and let’s face it, that would hardly be a shocker) as well as a tedious narcissist, this cabinet looked a little out of place.

Dean slipped past the desk and bent down to pull on the handles. It was locked and the key was nowhere to be seen. He quickly pulled out his lock picking tools and in a couple of minutes he had the cabinet doors opened wide. He smirked at the sight. Snuggled inside was the squat form of the safe, and what was even more of a bonus, it was one he knew well. Two years old, allegedly the best model at the time. But by now, eminently openable with the right skill set. Dean smiled and got down to work.

 

*******

 

His head was pounding. He knew he shouldn’t have gone, but it was a special night and, well he didn’t want to disappoint them. Or be worried. So he didn’t feel bad about the pretend phone call and having to rush to a crime scene. He’d tell them tomorrow and they’d huff at him and tell him off, and go on at him about getting himself a guide, and... he could see that whole age old argument rearing its head again, and that just made his own throb with dread.

“Please drop me off here.”

He needed to get out of this car. It was the most quiet model on the market and specifically requested to drive him back home, but he felt too enclosed. He needed fresh air to clear his head. The walk up the long drive would do him good.

By the time he got to the front door, some of the tension had left his body and his head was feeling marginally less like it was going to explode. He sighed. This was happening more and more often. He would have to call guide services tomorrow, again, and see if he could have another temporary guide for the next few days.

He eased the door open, bracing himself for the annoying beeping of the alarm system while trying desperately to remember the code in his present state. No beeping greeted him. He looked at the panel, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Gabriel was the last out, as usual. He must have forgotten to set the alarm.

Castiel slipped inside and then carefully closed it behind himself, mindful of any noise that could exacerbate his already pounding head.

He stood stock still inside the atrium ( _atrium? What the ... That article, why did I think of that stupid article now?_ ). He shook his head to rid himself of this extraneous junk, then winced at the pain. He tried to centre himself, as they taught at sentinel academy, before attempting to engage his senses on whatever it was that had gripped his attention.

Before he could worry about whether he could do so with the state he was in, he noticed that the pain was lessening. And as it receded, he was aware that there was a scent he was unfamiliar with, which definitely hadn’t been there when he left the house. It was fresh, enticing, like walking through woods in spring rain.

He followed it up the stairs, his head clearing with every step, his heart taking up the pounding instead. Now he could hear muted noises, shuffling, the rustling of papers. It was coming from his father’s study. He stepped silently inside.

 

*******

 

Dean was well pleased. Small change to the Novaks, no doubt, but fifty thousand dollars would go a long way to help. It was just he and Sammy now, and he didn’t want this kind of life for him. Sammy had brains and a good future ahead of him. He zipped up the bag and tidied up after himself. Unless someone went to open the safe, they wouldn’t know anything was amiss. He hefted the bag, turned around and froze.

 

Ah, crap!

 


	2. Chapter 2

Some idiotic part of his brain chose this moment to point out that there was a sentinel in the room, looking mighty fine. The light of the moon illuminated the room, casting tasteful and artistic shadows across Castiel Novak’s features, which someone with more aesthetic proclivities could admire at leisure.

( _Proclivities? What the hell was wrong with his brain?_ )

Luckily Dean had other parts of his mind working feverishly to cut that shit short. He noted the rapt way Novak was staring at him and realised he could use it to his advantage. Yeah, mean, but needs must and all. He flicked his torch back on and shone it directly into the sentinel’s eyes. The effect was immediate. There was a pained grunt, then hands flew to shield his face. Dean grabbed the chance of escape and shot out of the room.

Above his pounding heartbeat he could hear the sentinel calling to him to stop, that he wouldn’t harm him. Yeah, right. Maybe, _maybe_ he wouldn’t call the cops, but that would be even worse. He had no intention of ending up as some sentinel’s guide, as effective a prison as bars and a cell.

He ran out the door and round the corner to the back where he had hidden the Impala behind a cluster of rose bushes, dived inside, revved up the engine and shot out of the Novak estate as fast as his baby could take him. He slowed down once back on public roads and carefully made his way home, heart still pounding from the narrow escape.

 

Castiel made it out the door in time to see a car speeding away down the driveway. His sentinel vision had recovered enough to allow him to ascertain that it was a classic car, possibly a late sixties Dodge Charger or Impala. If he hadn’t been dazzled by the light, he could have grabbed the plate number too. But still, he couldn’t help smiling. No doubt the thief had not expected anyone to interrupt him, and certainly not a sentinel, or he wouldn’t have chosen such a vehicle. So, a little cocky but very clever. Castiel’s spirit soared. He was the one, and Castiel could find him with that information.

 

***********

 

“Dean!”

“What!”

He extricated himself from the hood of the car he was currently elbows deep in and looked up to Bobby’s worried face. His ‘some-shit-has-hit-the-fan’ face. Dean sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. Which was quickly confirmed when a man detached himself from behind Bobby and smiled at him. In a cat who got the cream way. Shit.

Dean wiped his hands roughly on a rag and eyed the sentinel. There was no evidence, no fingerprints. No tire tracks could be traced back to him, since the Novak driveway was laid with gravel. Castiel can claim he recognised Dean, but without physical evidence a sentinel’s testimony cannot be conclusive. Thank goodness for past legal cases that proved some factors can impede a sentinel’s senses, especially an unbonded one.

“What can I help you with, Mister...?”

Castiel’s smile was like the bloody sun, he looked so damn happy. Just that made Dean narrow his eyes and give him the stink eye. If anything that made Castiel beam even more. Wanker.

“Castiel Novak. Can we have a word in private?”

Dean nodded to Bobby, who looked between the two of them, and moved back reluctantly out of hearing range, but not out of sight. Dean got a surge of warm fuzzy feelings for his friend’s protectiveness, but tamped them down when he perceived that the sentinel has caught them as well. Freaking emotional peeping tom.

“We had a break in a couple of days ago. No one was home at the time, but I got back earlier than expected. Well, certainly earlier than the thief expected.”

Castiel paused, watching Dean carefully. Outwardly Dean didn’t so much as twitch, but he was aware that sentinels were capable of picking up on all sorts of tells. Well, fuck them, still not admissible in court.

“I noticed the car leaving. A classic car, very likely 1960s, black or dark blue. As you can imagine, not many of those around, say, a couple of hundred miles from our residence.”

“Well, you don’t strike me as a connoisseur of classic American cars, so let me tell you that there are several models that cover your very vague description.”

Castiel had been moving closer, attempting to be nonchalant about it, and failing spectacularly. Dean was not putting up with that shit, and aggressively moved forward right into Castiel’s space, startling him and causing him to automatically step back. Dean smirked at Castiel’s blush. The sentinel was not quite so self assured when he added, foolishly hopeful –

“I’m sure you are right. And if I find nothing, I’ll expand my search. But I think I found what I’m looking for.”

“Dude, the fact that I drive an Impala does not make me your thief. And I’d like to know what illegal strings you pulled to get that info.”

He didn’t like the confident look on the sentinel as he replied.

“Actually, I am a detective with the NYPD, so the information was gained through perfectly legal channels.”

Crap, of course a sentinel would be in some goodie two shoes profession. But why couldn’t he be a damn firefighter? Unbidden, Dean’s November entry on his calendar appeared with Castiel’s baby blues staring out at him, all smudged soot and grease and sweat. Fuck. He caught Castiel’s nostrils flaring in surprise, then a pleased little smile which he tried to hide by ducking his head. Yeah, fucking peeping tom.

“Yeah, well, it still ain’t me. So good luck and all that. I have to get back to work.”

He turned around and began to delve back into the bowels of the car when the words sent an icy jolt through his heart.

“You have a brother, Sam, am I right? He’s an intelligent young man and you have high hopes for him. How about...”

Dean whirled on him, snarling, his hands white knuckled fists.

“What. The. Fuck? You threatening my brother, you son of a bitch?”

Castiel stepped back, surprised into practically stuttering.

“Woah, no... I mean... never! I didn’t mean.. whatever you thought I meant!”

And he looked so completely confused that Dean’s anger abated somewhat, and with a little more control but no politeness whatsoever he managed to ask –

“Well, what the hell did you mean then?”

Castiel sighed, rubbing the back of his head and looking so awkward that Dean almost, _almost_ felt a tiny little bit sorry for him.

“Look, I know it was you.”

And as Dean was about to angrily dispute this he raised his hands in a conciliatory manner.

“I don’t care. That’s the point. I’m not here to get you into trouble with the police. Or to threaten your brother.”

Dean was still staring at him in a manner that suggested Castiel had best get to the point and quickly.

“The money is unimportant. I tracked you because you are the first guide I’ve come across that I felt any inclination to bond with. And yes, I’m aware that you must have little interest in this, since you are not registered. But I’m asking you to give me a chance. To show you that being a guide needn’t be some form of drudgery. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t register.”

Dean gave a curt nod in assent, then sighed and rubbed his tired face, smudging a bit of oil over his cheek. Castiel almost made a move to rub it off before he caught himself. He remembered all the stories of bonded pairs and how difficult they claimed it was to not touch as soon as they met. He had always doubted this, thinking that there was some exaggeration to the tales, and perhaps some innate and maybe even unconscious one-upmanship involved while relating these encounters to non bonded sentinels and guides. His upbringing was rather lacking in physical shows of affection, and as a sentinel he was particular about touch, so he never truly believed he would feel that need himself. Those beliefs were really coming to bite him in the ass right now.

He dragged his attention back from the tantalising skin of Dean’s cheeks when the man replied.

“Yeah, well, a guide’s life is all about following his sentinel about like a loyal little dog, isn’t it? You would expect me to drop everything and go to New York with you. I want my own life, thanks very much, and my own choices. And me and Sammy are doing fine.”

“You could do better. What would happen if you were caught?”

Dean shot him a narrowed glare, but he was listening, so Castiel called it a win.

“My family is rich. Your brother would want for nothing. He could go to the best university. His life would be everything you ever wanted for him. And yes, I would ask you to move to New York with me, but there’s no reason you couldn’t be a mechanic there if you wanted. You could even open your own business.”

“And if I don’t agree? Would you accept it and let it go?”

Castiel didn’t answer immediately, looking torn. It was a good sign that he didn’t instantly say what he thought Dean wanted to hear. At last he looked straight into Dean’s eyes with a defeated sad little smile.

“Although I’ve only just met you, I get the feeling you know your own mind and are not easily dissuaded once you have made it up. Pursuing you against your express wishes would do nothing but make you hate me. I wish ... I hope you’ll at least think about it.”

Geez, this was not how he had expected this conversation to go. He was ready to get all up in Castiel’s face and angrily kick the guy’s butt. But he wasn’t prepared for sad blue eyes and a voice that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. And so instead of sending him off with a heartfelt ‘fuck you’ his mouth uttered the words “I’ll think about it.”

He turned back to the engine before Castiel’s tentative smile did some stupid guide shit to him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing is going better than I thought, so here's an extra chapter for this week. If this continues I might be able to update twice a week.

“So should I advertise for another mechanic?”

“Bobby, what the hell?”

Although that came out a little muffled, what with Dean’s mouth being stuffed with burger. Bobby moved out of reach of the flying food shrapnel without losing sight of Dean’s expression. There was definitely a blush there, and that was enough to confirm his suspicions. He sighed, watching Dean fluster and smiled in a resigned way.

“What?” Dean’s belligerent attitude didn’t fool him for a second.

“Dean, I’ve never seen you take any interest in a sentinel and whenever one has taken a shine to you, you’ve made sure to give him short shrift. Now you tell this guy you’ll _think_ about his offer? Hell, I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Dean dropped the sad remains of his burger, mangled beyond recognition by his twitching fingers. He could hardly blame Bobby for being shocked. He had surprised himself by his own behaviour. And that really irked. If he was already acting out of character just by being in the guy’s presence, what did that bode for the future? His guide nature had never stopped him from telling the occasional sentinel to fuck right off, and for those insistent sons of bitches where words had not been enough, well, Dean was not your standard accommodating guide, full of understanding and good will towards all things sentinel. Those guys left with bruises and a healthier respect for the words ‘no fucking way, dickwad’. But Castiel had just slipped under his defences in a disturbing way. Even now, annoyed as he was at both himself and the sentinel, he couldn’t muster enough dislike to dismiss the man. Bobby was staring at him, looking all concerned and fatherly, and crap, he must be really worried.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. The guy’s ... nice” – he cringed at the blandness of that statement, but he was not used to expressing attraction beyond the limits of a good one night stand – “and what he said about Sammy... This would be good for him.”

“But you like him, right? You are not thinking about this just for your brother. I saw the way you looked at him.”

“I was fuming, what the hell?”

“Oh yeah, there was smoking hot fire in that look.” Bobby smirked at Dean’s embarrassed flush. “And if I can see that, what do you think he sensed?”

Dean groaned and went to rest his weary head on the table, stopping just in time to avoid diving into the sorry remains of his burger.

Uncharacteristically, he found his mouth uttering the words “What am I going to do, Bobby?”

He felt his hair affectionately ruffled, and heard Bobby’s gruff voice –

“You’ll work it out, kid, you have a good head on those shoulders. You think about it, and remember there’s no rushing this. Take all the time you need.”

One thing was certain. He needed to talk to Sammy.

 

*******

 

Or maybe not.

“Oh, my god, you are going to be Castiel Novak’s guide? He is amazing! He cracked a major case of guide abuse, he’s a founder of The Guide Sanctuary and and... He is a legend!” – and at Dean’s baffled look, he scowled – “What, how can you not know that?”

Dean returned the look, with interest. 

“Geez, it’s like you don’t know me at all. And in my defence I don’t exactly keep my finger on the pulse of sentinel-guide news. You know I avoid all that shit as much as possible.”

Sammy looked appalled and annoyed at Dean’s dismissive attitude, but really he should be used to it by now. Dean had made it clear as soon as he presented that guiding held zero interest for him, but Sammy had been seven and extremely curious about pretty much everything, and just exhausted his fascination with dinosaurs, so he just jumped on this new bandwagon with all the excitement the little tyke could muster. And boy, was that a lot. Dean had left him to it, and just tended to nod and grunt whenever Sammy would verbally vomit all his new found knowledge, appearing to listen without actually taking anything in.

“So you are going to say yes, right? Right?”

Sammy was practically bouncing on the spot, looking like he was going to explode if Dean didn’t answer immediately. Well, shit, this was going to be awkward. Dean scratched the back of his neck, realising too late that this was an obvious tell. As soon as his eyes met Sammy’s he knew his brother had noticed.

“You are actually thinking of refusing? Are you fucking serious?”

“Sammy...” He sighed at Sam’s mutinous look – “I haven’t made up my mind yet, ok? I told Castiel I’d think about it.”

He should not have looked, but Sammy’s disappointed puppy eyes were the best weapon in his arsenal, and the little bugger knew it. Dean sighed.

“I might, you know, go for coffee with him, or something.”

Sammy’s expression reverted to joyful expectation and unbounded energy.

“I could give you a list of all the coffee shops that are sentinel friendly. And restaurants. He might want to make it more than coffee. And he should get to know what you are like when you eat. If that doesn’t put him off, nothing will.”

Sammy shot up the stairs to his computer, ignoring Dean’s offended ‘hey!’

 

*******

 

He loved his family. He really did, in a reserved, non touching, no PDA kind of way. He was simply going to replace the fifty thousand dollars as soon as he got a chance, and keep his mouth shut about the guide until Dean got in touch with him (he tried not to think of the ‘if’). No point giving his family false hope.

But by a stroke of bad luck the safe that was hardly ever used was opened the very next day after his meeting with Dean. His spendthrift brother Gabriel had sweet talked his mother into another loan above and beyond his generous allowance. Luckily they asked him first to look at the crime scene, without getting the police involved. He saw no point in holding back on the facts. He knew his parents would put his need for a guide well above any material loss.

“I don’t see the problem. He’s obviously just playing hard to get, hoping he can squeeze you for a little more now that you’ve made it clear money is no object. Guides are just people after all. Buy him a new car, show him how you can shower him with money and he’ll sign up for the gig.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed dangerously at his brother’s dismissive attitude of his guide (uhm, ok, not _his_ , but still, damn rude).

“Luke, unless all my instincts and training are proving useless, I can assure you that this guide cannot be bought. In fact, I would go so far as to speculate that our wealth could be a hindrance. Dean is very proud and I can only hope he is thinking about my offer _despite_ the money.”

He pretended not to hear Luke’s whispered sing song “not too proud to steal, though.”

He understood that this was a fairly alien concept for his family. As a cop he came across all kinds of people in all walks of life, but his family moved only in the same prestigious circles. Yes, they were involved in charity work, donations and such like. But it was all at a distance. They might have sympathy for the less fortunate, but they never actually met them. Castiel suppressed a grin at the thought of them interacting with Dean. That would be an eye opener for sure.

His father’s voice roused him from his pleasant thoughts. He sounded a little uncertain, but was trying for supportive.

“Well, we trust you to know what you are doing”.

Luke was about to open his mouth but without even turning in his direction his father lifted an admonishing finger –

“Not a word from you, if you please.” He returned his attention to Castiel. “I wish you luck with him.”

A solid hand squeezed Castiel’s shoulder, the very height of parental approval. His mother smiled encouragingly, Gabe looked intrigued, Michael bored, and Luke mischievous. Castiel felt only some of his tension ebbing away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel had left his phone number on the desk of Bobby’s small office on his way out, and Dean had refused to touch it, prompting Bobby to squirrel it away for later. He knew there would be a later. Sure enough Dean caved after two days of Sammy’s nagging and stood in the doorway looking embarrassed and failing to meet his eyes. His friend sighed, opened the drawer and offered the card to Dean, who snatched it from him and hurried out, mumbling about annoying little brothers.

Dean didn’t trust himself with speaking to Castiel, so he texted him with date, time and place, stressing that it was just for a chat and he shouldn’t get any ideas. Barely two minutes later Castiel replied, leaving Dean uneasy about agreeing to this meeting, seeing the sentinel again and wondering what the hell they could possibly have in common. The coffee and pie had better be phenomenally good.

 

*******

 

“Hey”.

( _Oh, smooth, Dean._ ) Not that Castiel was doing much better. Damn the sentinel, he was throwing Dean off his game. As soon as he had clapped eyes on him, his face had lit up with delight and anticipation. Part of Dean was looking forward to wiping that look off his face, but mostly he was aware that expectation was going to be short of reality, and frankly the sooner this happened the better for both of them.

He rolled his eyes at Castiel holding the door open for him, and strode inside. Truth was, the confidence was a little forced. This was a sentinel friendly café, something he had always avoided for obvious reasons, and even though he was perfectly capable of getting rid of unwanted attention, the place still made his skin itch. Castiel of course could sense something was up.

“We can have coffee anywhere you like. I would be fine in a normal establishment.”

Dean was not the type to back down, even if he was pretty sure Castiel did not mean it as a challenge.

“No, it’s cool. Curious as to what passes as decent grub for sentinels” – and at Castiel’s warm smile – “in an _academic_ kinda curiosity. I warned you, don’t get any ideas.”

Nothing seemed to blunt Castiel’s good humour, damn the little chipper bugger. They picked a table that to Dean’s mind showed that no matter how relaxed the sentinel seemed, security and alertness were still very much on Castiel’s mind. A good view of the exits and plenty of space for quick manoeuvring if need be. Dean approved, and then chastised himself for it. This was just coffee, dammit, and a chance to show Castiel that they did not work well together. Not to find similarities. Shit!

“Are you ok?” Damn sentinels and their hyper aware systems.

“Peachy.”

Dean seated himself and grabbed the menu, so he wouldn’t have to look at Castiel’s stupidly beautiful face. Peripherally he was aware that Castiel’s movements seemed uncertain, but then he also took a menu and immersed himself in it. Although it was obvious to both that neither was concentrating on the food on offer. Still, Dean was all for avoiding conversation for as long as possible. Also, he was in need of apple pie and a gallon of coffee.

When the waiter arrived he practically tripped on his words in his hurry to get them out. He was not nervous, just really desperate for that coffee. And he needed that sugary rush from the pie. All the energy and alertness he needed to deal with this sentinel, who was still smiling at him like he hung the damn moon. Of course once the waiter had left with their order, they were alone again, with no large papery wall between them. Just that adoring look across the table.

“Look, I know sentinels get this...” – he waved vaguely between them – “ _feeling_ when they sense a guide, but let’s face it, you are a cop and I’m a thief. I don’t see how this can possibly work.”

Dean was frustrated to see that Castiel had listened carefully but did not in any way look dejected. In fact he had that look that clearly implied he had answers to Dean’s objections. Well, let’s see how he could argue around that obvious issue.

“Well, first of all, this” – he waved his hand between them in imitation of Dean’s gesture – “is not what happens when we sense _a_ guide, but when we know it’s a compatible one, even _the_ one.”

There was a quiet intensity to those last three words. It was obvious what Castiel was saying, and Dean was determined not to give anything away, even though something warm and welcome had unfurled inside his very being. Fuzzy feelings were all well and good ( _bad!_ ), but bonding was for life.

“Nothing worthwhile is easy to come by. We have differences, sure, but I believe your situation has led you to the life you now have, not some inherent criminal tendency.” And as Dean looked about to butt in – “Hear me out, please. I... did a little research on you.”

Dean judged him with a raised eyebrow, but could hardly fault him for investigating him.

“From what I have learned, you have a deep well of loyalty and sense of responsibility and care, to both your friends and family. I believe you would do anything for them. These are traits that anyone would appreciate. Believe me when I tell you that having an ex-thief on my side can actually be quite helpful in my line of work. So, no, I don’t see that our situation is impossible and our life choices irreconcilable.”

Well, of course the good little boy scout had worked out all his arguments in advance. Hell, so had Dean. Although he was finding it hard to rebut him. He definitely thought there would be a lot more arguing back and forth about this, instead it was practically dismissed at once as irrelevant. Dean was sure his next point might make the prim sentinel blanch, at least a little, but before he could wade into it, their order arrived.

Dean dived into the pie like an invading army battering walls. He shovelled a huge piece into his mouth, barely managing to close it before chewing and was privately chuckling at Castiel’s look of dismay. Before his own took on that look. He rushed to swallow, then gulped down the coffee in an attempt to drown the insipid taste. Instead further disappointment awaited him.

“What the ever loving fuck?”

Castiel laughed, and the sound sent shivers down his body, pooling in his guts almost painfully. Seriously, fuck this guide shit. And fuck this food. Is this what passed as apple pie in this god forsaken culinary hell hole? Dean pushed the plate away with a disgusted grunt. Sentinel food sucked big time.

“Sorry” – Castiel managed at last, sounding incredibly amused and not in the least bit sorry – “sentinel friendly establishments have to cater to the lowest common denominator.”

And at Dean’s look which clearly proclaimed he _knew_ sentinels were indeed the lowest common denominator in his life, he rolled his eyes.

“You know I don’t mean that. Some sentinels’ sense of taste is so acute they can only manage the blandest food, and these establishments have to use that as a baseline. I’m sure we can ask the waiter to add something to the pie, cinnamon perhaps? Cream? Extras must be available. I certainly find it too bland as well, but I’m used to this sort of food. It’s pretty much all we got at the sentinel academy.”

Dean looked as if for the first time he felt sorry for Castiel.

“You had to eat this stuff, like, regularly? Not as a form of punishment? Wait, does that mean that guides have to swallow this crap as well?”

That would definitely count as a robust argument to never ever bond. Castiel seemed to be having way more fun than the topic warranted. Ok, so Dean was a pie man. So sue him. Pie was a staple as far as he was concerned, and a grand tradition. He was not going to compromise.

“No, it was not punishment. And no, guides can eat whatever they like. Once sentinels are bonded, their senses become more balanced, so most of them can eat pretty much anything. Obviously this varies from person to person, just like with normal people. Some love spicy foods, some find them obnoxious. But once a guide is there to help the sentinel, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

Dean looked sceptical. “I heard of bonded sentinels zoning. So how come that happens?”

“Well, yes, zoning is still a concern if a sentinel focuses too much on something. Again, it’s only a problem if their guide is not around.”

He pointedly made eye contact with Dean, emphasising his next words.

“Contrary to what you might imagine, guides are not attached at the hip to their sentinels. Proximity to the guide does avoid zones, but guides are allowed their own lives.”

Huh, he hadn’t realised that. Perhaps he should have listened to Sammy when he was spouting all that sentinel stuff. Still, he wondered how Castiel was going to take his next words.

“Ok, so, I don’t do relationships, never have. I just don’t have the staying power, you know? Some people are just not suited to monogamous life. When I get the itch, I pick someone up in a bar or something.”

He deliberately left the ‘something’ up for Castiel’s imagination to fill in, and from his furrowed brow he could imagine what scenarios might be flitting through his mind. Yeah, he did enjoy those quick and dirty encounters in shady places, and he was pretty sure this sentinel would find that a step too far.

“I should warn you that my own sexual experiences are limited. As an unbonded sentinel it’s difficult to completely let go during copulation. But I’m confident I wouldn’t have any problems after bonding.”

A mischievously flirtatious smile followed. Well, shit, was nothing going to put this guy off? And, seriously, _copulation_? Who the hell called it that?

Before he realised what he was saying the words were spilling out.

“Ok, dude, don’t ever call it that if you are actually hoping to get laid.”

“Ok, Dean. I promise. I wouldn’t want to put you off.”

Oh, this was going swimmingly. If drowning was your end goal. Dean rubbed his forehead, wondering what other spanner he could throw in the works.

When he heard them, Castiel’s words were a little more tentative.

“I am not dismissing your argument on relationships, but in this respect we are not normal people. Compatible sentinels and guides achieve a measure of union that is not possible to duplicate in the normal world. Believe me when I say that being together would be the only desirable end, and that once bonded neither of us would wish to be with someone else.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’d both be Stepford wives.”

He was sure that was going to stick in any sentinel’s craw, but instead he was startled again by Castiel’s laughter.

“Dean, you could never be anything but yourself. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Oh, yes, this meeting was an excellent idea.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

Yeah, of course Sammy didn’t get it. He got a rundown of the _coffee_ _date_ (his words) after pestering Dean until he figured it best to just spill. And even though it was related in less than enthusiastic tones, his brother had just filtered all Dean’s cynicism and reticence out of the narrative, and concluded that it had been a success.

“The problem” – Dean insisted – “is that a sentinel will say anything to get a guide they want. Once bonded, I bet that tune will change real fast.”

Ok, he hated it when he got that perceptive look from Sam.

“You are using your prejudice against all sentinels to convince yourself you don’t like this one. But I know you, Dean, if you didn’t you’d have told him to get lost long before now.”

He watched as Dean’s eyes narrowed and just before the conversation could take an unpleasant turn, he hastily added –

“Dean, I don’t want to fight about this. I just want you to be happy, and I feel like you are sabotaging yourself here.”

Dean deflated, his pent up frustration going nowhere. He’d had enough about _feelings_ and all that shit. He needed something straightforward to expend this energy on. He grabbed his jacket and walked out the house, Sammy’s concerned enquiries unanswered.

 

His mood had not improved. Three beers and a rough fuck had definitely made for one more relaxed Dean, in body at least. But his mind kept returning to those blue eyes and that earnest expression, and although he had certainly enjoyed the sex tonight, there was a strange emptiness inside, a something unsatisfied that was like a maddening itch he couldn’t scratch.

Time for research. He needed to know what the hell was going on with him. He borrowed Bobby’s computer (no way was he using Sammy’s and giving him ideas) and buckled down.

 

*******

 

“What the hell did you do to me?”

Ok, when Dean had texted him to arrange a meeting he had not envisaged an angry Dean gripping his coat lapels and slamming him into the nearest wall. Not that he minded. He had never been this close to him and the heady rush he was feeling was almost making him light headed. Dean must have noticed something. He let go and brushed the coat clumsily, then stepped back, looking at anything except Castiel. He started pacing, rubbing the back of his neck and looking really awkward.

Castiel waited patiently for an explanation which Dean was clearly trying to put together.

“Look, I’ve been reading stuff. And, yeah, I don’t think you did this on purpose, but I’m still pissed as hell.”

Castiel’s eloquent reply was “Ahh.” Dean gave him the stink eye.

“You know what I’m talking about, right? I can tell you do.”

“Yes, I felt the connection very early on. I believe from meeting you the very first time.”

Dean looked torn and a little lost, but still pissed. The sentinel’s control was wavering. He longed to embrace his guide and soothe him, but he knew if he did he’d likely spook him further. And get a black eye into the bargain.  All this information must be overwhelming to someone who had never bothered with it before.

“It didn’t say” – Dean swallowed – “it didn’t mention there was a way to break it. Is there?”

Castiel tried to ignore the painful disappointment that had suddenly hollowed him out. Dean was upset, and rightly so.

“I’m sorry Dean. I don’t know of any way to break this. It’s not at all common, and I suspect because of that there hasn’t been much research on the subject. And what there is, is all about the positive aspects of it. No one would be looking into how to break it.”

Castiel looked a little pale and Dean felt like a real bastard. He had known it wasn’t Castiel’s fault and yet he had been so upset he had blamed him.

“I’m sorry, Cas. It was a dick move to take it out on you. I’m just kinda freaked here.”

Castiel was moving before he even registered it. A warm hand cupped Dean’s cheek, surprising him into eye contact.  

“I would never force you into anything. If you wish we could try to stay away from each other, see if this spontaneous pre-bonding can fade away with time.”

Castiel’s heart was thudding in his chest. Dean looked so conflicted he could not tell what he was likely to say, and the wait was torture.

But Dean had always gone with his gut instincts, and everything told him to trust this man. Guide or not, he had never felt like this about any other person he had met. That had to mean something, right?

Dean lifted his hand and laid it on Castiel’s. He lingered for a moment enjoying the comfort and then gently tugged the sentinel’s hand away, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, no, let’s not. How about we go to a decent coffee shop instead.”

Castiel’s smile never failed to cause a storm of butterflies in his stomach.  

“My brother thinks you are the second coming. So you can tell me all about that guide refuge you set up. It’ll make Sammy’s day.”

Castiel was practically glowing. Even if Dean’s curiosity was disguised as information for his brother, it was clear that he himself was interested. And Castiel was keen to engage Dean in all areas in which their lives could interact.

 

*******

 

One coffee shop date led to a lunch date and tentatively they began to meet more often. Two weeks had passed since that confrontation, and though Dean was always reticent to talk about how he felt he seemed to be more at ease in Castiel’s company.

Dean had introduced him to Sam, and spent the next twenty minutes rolling his eyes and fake gagging at Sam’s fangirling, causing what Castiel understood was a par for the course spat between them. If his sentinel senses hadn’t alerted him, he might have been worried at their exchange of expletives. He marvelled at the differences between these siblings and his own. Underneath the bickering it was clear their love was genuine, and he envied their easy familiarity.

On a more selfish note, he was delighted that Sam was keen on their union, and that he didn’t have to pass some sort of family test to ascertain if he were worthy. Privately he was a little worried at the reaction his own family would have when they met Dean, and kept putting it off. He was sure they wouldn’t try to sabotage it, but he trusted his parents to show tact and discretion no matter what they thought, whereas his brothers were more unpredictable. Trying to have a quiet word with them beforehand would as likely egg them on to act out.

The problem was that his parents had always considered him the sensible one of the family, and though they had tried to be level headed and just in the handling of their brood, Castiel’s version of whatever trouble had arisen was often the one believed. And not just because he was a sentinel. This had resulted in a far more fair dispensation of family justice, but had hardly endeared him to his brothers. Some sibling resentment still lingered, and he was not as close to them as they were to each other.

“Are you ok? You seem kind of down.”

“Ah, no. Just ... something on my mind.”

Cas smiled, but it didn’t contain the usual amount of radiant sunshine. Something was definitely up.

“Ok, out with it. What’s eating you?”

Castiel sighed, rubbing his tired face with both hands. The last case had kept him up at all hours, and he was too tired to have this conversation. But then, he was finding excuses to put it off and maybe now was as good a time as any.

“Dean, I would like you to meet my family.”

“Wow, not ominous at all. Seriously, you need to work on that game face of yours.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not doing this right. I guess I’m just anxious. They are not going to disapprove, but my brothers can be a bit....” Words failed.

“Let me see. Entitled spoilt brats. Does that about cover it?”

Cas’ mouth twitched, confirming that no matter the vocabulary Dean had been pretty much spot on.

“Don’t worry. So long as you don’t object to my giving as good as I get, I’m up for it.”

 

*******

 

Castiel had hoped to arrange this meeting in a more neutral setting. Perhaps they could all meet up at some restaurant, where a certain degree of decorum would be mandatory. But his father had encouraged him to bring Dean home, worried that an invitation anywhere else would give Dean the wrong idea, that he was not trusted within the mansion since his little peccadillo (yes, his father called it that).

He respected the sentiment and understood that his parents wanted to make Dean feel welcome. Of course that also meant his brothers wouldn’t feel so fettered in a more private setting. His parents had stressed how important this dinner would be, and Castiel couldn’t help thinking, gauging their reactions as only a sentinel could, that such admonition had done little more than stoke their mischievous spirits. Michael’s elevated heart beat and slight flushing alone did not bode well for the evening. Well, if they were willing to poke at a wasps’ nest, they had to deal with the stings.

 

*******

 

Dean parked the Impala in front of the Novak mansion, taking a moment to marvel at the change of circumstances since his last visit. He had enjoyed driving Cas and watching his delighted smile, showing his baby off. Not a ride Cas could ever have enjoyed before, sentinel sensitive as he was. Now thanks to Dean there were so many more avenues of fun available to him. He tried hard not to think of some very specific ones. This dinner would be awkward enough without sporting a boner.

Dean heard the front door open and stepped out of the Impala just as Mr Novak was revealed in the light of the hallway. He had one moment to feel a little weird at meeting a guy he had privately thought of as a self obsessed health freak, but until he knew a bit more about him he wasn’t going to go into this with rose tinted spectacles either. He could hear Cas exiting from the passenger side, and offering a quick greeting before stepping next to Dean. Together they made their way forward.

Dean shook Mr Novak’s offered hand and general pleasantries were exchanged. A little awkwardness was to be expected, but Cas’ father was a consummate socialite, and handled this initial meeting well. They were then ushered inside and shown into the living room, where the rest of the family was attempting to look relaxed. More introductions followed, and Dean suspected all would not be as smooth going with the brothers. Michael was eyeballing him in a superior arrogant way that was meant, in his mind at least, to intimidate, but came off as utterly ridiculous. Dean shot him one of his knowing smirks and observed his quick eye contact with Luke. Yeah, bring it on, bitches.

Some small talk followed, general queries about the ride there and Dean’s lovely vintage car. Then dinner was announced and Mr Novak led the way to the dining room. Dean was looking around as they made their way, and sensed a new presence next to him.

“See anything you like? I don’t suppose you got much of a chance to browse last time you were here.”

“I’m more of a safe cracking kinda guy. And cars of course. _You_ have a sweet ride.”

He grinned evilly, watching Michel’s eyes widen in shock. He moved back to his siblings, glancing back at Dean with a pissy look. Cas looked back at Dean with a barely contained smile and was rewarded with a cheeky wink.

 

The dinner went as well as Castiel could have hoped. While Gabriel looked on in amused detachment, Michael and Luke continued to slip double edged remarks into the conversation, but Dean replied with interest, all the while keeping the subtext hidden. It was amusing to see how much meaning Dean could convey with the odd eyebrow lift, or how chilling his normally warm smile could get. Castiel’s parents were clearly not so much in the dark as the oblivious siblings thought, but soon were aware that Dean could hold his own, and if anything by the end of the meal they looked upon Dean with genuine approval.

By the time they took their leave, Michael and Luke had given up on their veiled insults, and stood behind their parents looking as if they had been sucking on lemons. There was no doubt their mischief was not over.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“There’s two of Castiel’s brothers asking to see you. And some guy I really don’t like the look of tagging along.”

Dean wiped his grease stained hands and looked up to Bobby’s annoyed expression.

“I’ll sort it out.”

Bobby followed him and at Dean’s eyebrow raise he said – “I ain’t leaving you with the creepy one.”

Oookay. Not like Bobby to get so protective. I mean, yeah, he always had his back, but he also knew Dean could manage almost any situation. This dude must be sending really bad vibes to be able to rattle him so.

Dean spotted them as soon as he turned the corner. Two cars were parked in front of the office, the flashy Ferrari and a Mercedes. Michael looked nervous and as if he’d rather be anywhere else, and as Dean sauntered over he wouldn’t meet his eye. That was weird. Luke looked relaxed but there was a smugness to it that irritated Dean immediately. But Bobby was right. The third guy was definitely bad news. What the fuck was going on?

“I don’t know what the hell you think you are doing bringing an unbonded sentinel sniffing around here, but I suggest you get the hell out. He is not welcome.”

Whatever reaction he expected, it was not the puzzled look on both brothers. Michael’s eyes shot to the newcomer.

“How can you work with Guide Services if you are an unbonded sentinel?”

Dean rolled his eyes. Seriously, these guys.

“’cause he doesn’t, dummy. You’ve been had.”

And while both brothers were stunned by this turn of events, Dean levelled a look at the interloper.

“You got one minute to get the hell out of here before I throw you out.”

Which, weirdly, made the sentinel smile.

“That’s fine. I’ve seen what I came to see. And you are everything they said and more.”

He smiled again, making Dean’s skin itch for a shower. He gave a little jaunty salute, then got back in his car and drove off. Dean pulled out his phone and had Cas on the line before the brothers could ask what was going on.

He kept the conversation short and to the point. He had a photo of the number plate and one of the guy himself courtesy of Bobby’s phone. But what worried Dean was that the sentinel had not cared about that. He had obviously been aware of the click of the camera, since Bobby had been less than covert about it, hoping the action would make the man leave. Instead the smug shit had actually turned towards him and offered a perfect shot. Whoever this guy was, he was confident he could not be touched.

Once he ended the call he was aware that Luke’s phone had started ringing, and from the look on his face when he answered, it was Cas tearing him a new one. Good. Luke looked pissed but also embarrassed. He had obviously involved Guide Services in an attempt to upset both Cas and himself, the little shit. And judging by Michael’s behaviour throughout, enlisted a less than enthusiastic brother.

There’ll be hell to pay once Cas got here, but Dean was going to start without him.

“Right, I take it your little scheme was to embarrass us. Don’t see how, exactly, since it’s not mandatory to register with Guide Services. So what the fuck?”

Luke still looked mutinous, but Michael stuttered out –

“We thought... you hadn’t registered because of your criminal record.”

“Dude, I don’t have one. I’m good at what I do and I ain’t never been caught.”

“Oh.”

Oh, man, these guys were idjits.

Luke found his voice, attempting to salvage this appalling plan.

“So you expect us to believe that you just threw away the chance to enjoy all the advantages of registering for no reason? We know it must be your criminal activities.”

“Ok, first off, you don’t get to give me motives that sound good to you, ‘cause you and I have jack shit in common, you selfish little prick. And yeah, guides get a lot of perks for joining, paid health care, education yada yada. And all they have to do is learn to be good little guides for their beloved sentinels. Well, fuck that shit. I never wanted to register, dumbass. That was a decision I made when I first presented, before my” – Dean added air quotes – “‘criminal activities’. So all you’ve done is piss Cas and me off. Oh, and I’m pretty sure your parents are not gonna be thrilled.”

Michael was slumped against the passenger door of his car, looking like a kicked puppy. Luke was not done yet. Oh yeah, he could definitely see whose plan this was. He still looked too pleased with himself.

“Well, why shouldn’t everyone know what kind of guide Castiel is panting after? And fyi, it’s not a big community, and word travels fast.”

Dean wanted to smack that smug arrogant smirk off his face, but he thought showing him what a shit plan he had would be a more satisfying victory.

“Instead, dickwad, somewhere along the line an unbonded sentinel found out, and came over to check me out.”

Luke snorted. “Yeah, right, because you are such a catch.”

Dean shook his head in exasperation. The stupid assholes had no idea. Just as he was about to lay into him, possibly physically, Cas’ car arrived on the scene. His silent sentinel ninja car. Both brothers jumped at the sudden arrival, making Dean smirk.

Cas went straight to Dean, checking he was ok before turning his attention to his wayward siblings. Dean had never seen Cas angry, and he admitted it was fucking hot. He leant back against his baby and prepared to be entertained. He was not disappointed. He surreptitiously adjusted himself a couple of times during the thorough verbal thrashing the brothers were subjected to. It was not all fun, though. He knew that sentinel was trouble, and so did Cas.

 

*******

 

Castiel initially hoped that charges might be levelled at the sentinel for impersonating a Guide Services officer. Until it turned out that at no stage had he actually done this. What did transpire was that in their eagerness to stick it to Dean and Castiel, the brothers had been stupid enough to disgorge all their information to the charming man who had called them on the phone, whose only real disclosure had been that he was aware of the situation. He had never claimed to act on anyone’s authority and the brothers had not asked for any identification when they met up with him. How quickly news had leaked from Guide Services was somewhat worrying, but Dean doubted that Cas’ brothers had been subtle in their communications and as that little shit Luke said, it _was_ a small community.

Dean had listened to the information on his mysterious douchebag visitor and hadn’t even tried to object to the protective details Cas had arranged with both the sentinel community and his own precinct. The FBI had also been alerted and were sending a couple of agents. Dean did insist that some of that manpower be directed at protecting Sammy and Bobby. And by the time they called for a family meeting it was clear to all that this was serious.

Dean remembered last time he had stepped into the Novak living room and if he had thought then that there was some tension in the room, well, that was sunshine and rainbows compared to the atmosphere now.

Cas wasted no time in informing everyone of the situation. The unknown sentinel had been identified. Mr Crowley was outwardly a very successful businessman, but both the NYPD and the FBI had reason to believe he was involved in a variety of criminal activities, not least of which was guide trafficking. There was no direct evidence, unfortunately, but in the past eight months some of his closest ‘business associates’ had been implicated in an FBI case that ended with the recovery of fifty nine guides held captive in five different isolated locations in the country. Mr Crowley and his cadre of lawyers had simply claimed that he was unaware of the extracurricular activities of his associates, and since there was no proof and none of the accused had involved him, notwithstanding the generous incentives, the law enforcement agencies had nothing to pin on him. And this was not the first time he had slipped through the net.

“I don’t understand. He is a sentinel. Doesn’t that mean he’s one of the good guys? Maybe he really didn’t know anything.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Michael’s naivety and blamed all those goody two shoes tv series and films that depicted sentinels as law abiding heroes, helping old ladies cross the road, getting kittens out of trees blah blah blah.

“Dude, sentinels are just people. Sure, their general instinct is to protect and serve, but hey, some of them just want to use their gifts to screw other people.”

Luke smirked. “Well, now we know why he’s interested in you.”

Dean had to restrain Cas as he lunged for his brother. Luke looked shocked. Castiel rarely lost his temper, and when he did it tended to result in cold anger. Dean was murmuring in Cas’ ear, and whatever he was saying, it was calming him down. Meanwhile the rest of the family was giving Luke a right telling off, and if the situation hadn’t been so serious Dean would have been enjoying every moment of it. Well, he did enjoy quite a bit of it. Hey, he was only human. By the time everyone calmed down, the man looked like he wished he were anywhere else. And everyone else seemed to feel the same, judging by the glares directed at him.

Gabriel had kept quiet up to now, but Cas noticed that the indolent amusement he generally sported had given way to sharp interest.

“So is this guy genuinely attracted to you, or is he just screwing with Cas and by extension the sentinel community and the FBI? Advertising that he’s untouchable.” Before Dean could answer, he added – “Or maybe he has found a buyer.”

Well, that did wonders for the tension in the room. The situation was bad enough without contemplating the possibility that Dean might end up being sold off to a possibly untraceable stranger. Cas couldn’t keep the anguish from his face as he stared at Gabriel. Dean sighed.

“Look, here’s the thing. Guides can tell when a sentinel is interested, ok? And he was showing all the signs. Stuff you guys wouldn’t be able to pick up on. Maybe he was just curious at first, I don’t know, but yeah, Mr Creepy McCreep seems to have taken a shine to me.”

That seemed to make Cas relax a fraction. Dean got it. If he was sold off to some unknown sentinel, who knew if and when he could be found. Can’t rely on the cavalry to get you out of a scrape all the time. God knows how many guides had been sold off to dodgy sentinels and were never heard of again. But knowing which sentinel he was being targeted for would narrow the search.

Sammy just blurted out what Dean knew he had been thinking since he first heard of Castiel Novak.

“Just bond already! He can’t mess with you if you are bonded.”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look which clearly conveyed they had talked about it and neither was happy with the conclusions. Cas’ tone was subdued.

“It’s not something you are likely to come across in your research, Sam, but even perfectly healthy bonds can be broken. Unsurprisingly it’s something the community tends to keep quiet about. It’s only recently that there has even been open acknowledgement about instances of abuse, by both sentinels and guides.”

Dean grimaced.

“Yeah, no kidding. You may not know this, but the Guide Sanctuary actually has a sister wing in Seattle for abused sentinels. Our lovely community keeps that part quiet even now. Wouldn’t do for the public image of all American superhuman sentinel shit. It’s their dirty little secret.”

Cas winced, but could not deny that this was essentially the case.

“The official line implies that only breaking forced bonds or such defective ones is possible, but that is simply not true. There are ways to break any link with the use of drugs. It isn’t pleasant. The person will need both medical help and therapy for months in order to return to a workable level of normality, if they ever do. Dean and I discussed this, and we agreed that bonding would actually be worse under these circumstances. If Crowley’s aims are nefarious in relation to Dean” – Dean raised an eyebrow at the language, and at the ‘if’ – “then the first thing he would do once he had him would be to break the bond. Neither of us would be in a position to aid the other.”

A sombre silence descended which Gabriel broke – “So what happens now?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and caught sight of Sammy’s worried expression. Ah, crap.

“As you know, we all have security details in place. Just make sure you don’t go out or do stuff without them knowing. But there is something else Cas and I have discussed” – he glanced at the sentinel, who looked as if he might be sick, but powered on regardless – “and that is the opportunity we have here.”

Blank gazes all round. Ok, just come right out with it. Like pulling a tooth.

“We might at last be able to pin something on this bastard. If he wants me, I can be the bait.”

Sammy shot out of his seat, Bobby following, and Mr and Mrs Novak added their own voices to the general shouts of “Are you nuts?”, “Hell, no, boy!” and “Let the FBI handle this!”

Cas and Dean waited until everyone had simmered down a little. Dean was uncharacteristically serious.

“While this guy is a threat none of us is safe. I don’t want to live like that, and I sure as hell don’t want my family to live like that either. So we do this.”

Cas added.

“We have had preliminary discussions with the federal agents and we hope to have a plan in place soon. Just... keep doing what you normally do, and keep an eye out for anything untoward and make sure you report it, no matter how inconsequential it seems.”

No one seemed happy, and more questions followed. By the end of the meeting, everyone looked exhausted and stressed. The next few weeks were going to be a bitch.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The technology is not (yet) so miniaturised, but since this is an AU I’m assuming you are already wearing handsome belief suspenders (and looking mighty fine in them too).

“Agents Martinez and Dziadulewicz.”

ID badges were flipped open for his perusal, but they had already received their photos prior to this meeting, and passed the Novak’s check point.

Serious eyebrow raise from Dean, still not sure he could pronounce that mouthful.

“Ooookay, for the purposes of being able to call on you quickly, you know, in like an emergency type situation, can I call you something else for short?”

“Yeah, no problem. My name is Ania.”

The agent shook his hand and smiled. Dean smiled back, then shook Martinez’s hand. Martinez was majorly ripped, and no suit was going to hide that bulk, which pretty much advertised ‘mess at your own risk’. So did his face. Serious and focused, his silence a bit disturbing. Ania was pretty much everything Martinez wasn’t. For a start she was a hot chick. As tall as Dean, with long legs and raven locks, and a smile that could turn most people’s knees to jelly. Dean’s preferences tended to veer towards guys, but he had enjoyed sex with women as well. If Cas hadn’t been in the picture, he would certainly be tapping that. Something must have shown in his face, Martinez’s fake cough jolting him from his musings.

“Oops. Awkward.” He then added with a cheeky grin. “Right, follow me. Cas is in the study.”

 

What followed were two hours of brain storming. The agents at once put Cas and Dean’s minds at rest when it came to their fears that the abduction attempt might be made on the Novak property itself, where Cas’ family could end up as collateral damage. Crowley was a cunning opportunist. He would be unlikely to try and gain entry to a well defended area when he could much more easily abduct Dean, say, on the road. That such a chance for him to do so should present itself was the job of the agents to devise.

But here is where the problems began. Dean spent most of the time acting as mediator between the agents and the sentinel when frustration would get the better of either. Cas was unhappy with most of their suggestions, which he felt placed Dean too much at risk. But Dean knew he had to put himself out there in order for a trap to work, and Cas’ tendency to insist on more protection was hindering any possible plan.

“Ok, ok, how about this? You guys mentioned earlier putting a chip on me.” And as Cas was about to remind him – “Yeah, I know, that won’t work if they force me to change clothes, but what about those subcute... whatever you call those under the skin jobs? If it’s well hidden they might miss it.”

The agents agreed that was a good compromise and after some cajoling by Dean, Castiel acquiesced. Finally some of the tension left the room as the agents contacted their office and made arrangements for a doctor to place the implant. In light of this change a couple of previously discarded plans resurfaced, were carefully reviewed again and this time approved.

More waiting would however be required, both for details to be attended to, and to allow for some healing around the insertion point of Dean’s implant. It was agreed that this would be placed behind his neck, where his hair would hide it. If they forced him to strip they still wouldn’t be able to see anything was amiss.

“How about we take a break now. Don’t know about you, but I could murder a burger.”

Castiel would happily have secluded himself with Dean for the duration of the day (month, year), but he appreciated that a good working relationship was essential with their protective detail. And thankfully Dean was the sociable one, leaving him to try to relax after that damn planning session. He was left in the room with agent Martinez, a taciturn man who had hardly opened his mouth throughout the morning, but added salient points as and when they were needed. Castiel was happy with the company and they both sat in comfortable silence while Dean and Ania were heard moving down the corridor, chatting like old buddies.

 

*******

 

Dean had no problem with needles or minor surgical procedures, but there was something a bit off putting having someone behind his back, where he couldn’t keep an eye on them. Also having something placed in his neck was sending all kinds of get-the-hell-out-of-here signals which he had to suppress. Thankfully the whole thing didn’t take very long and the doctor didn’t talk to him like he was some delicate flower.

“Give it forty eight hours before you wash the area, and keep the dressing on until then. I’ll leave you with instructions for aftercare and more dressings, as well as some anti-inflammation medicine, and it should all heal up nicely within a week.”

Dean thanked the man and cautiously brought his hand to the back of his neck. He could just about feel the little bump under the thick dressing, which was weird since his senses seemed to think it was the size of a spark plug.

The agents were busy with the final checking of the signal, and the doctor was packing up. All Dean could think about was getting a nice cool beer and relaxing on the couch. As if the doc could read his mind he added –

“And no alcohol if you are taking anti-inflammatories.”

Dean groaned. Now all he wanted to do was kick that Crowley bastard in the nuts. Cas appeared in the doorway with a coffee that smelled divine and a slice of cherry pie that made Dean’s mouth water. Hell, the doc wasn’t the only one who could read minds.

“I know it was just a minor surgical procedure, but in my experience it is best not to eat something so rich immediately after. Perhaps some sweet tea and...”

The doctor’s words petered out as Dean grabbed the offered plate while Cas was still listening and therefore distracted, and dove into the pie with all the enthusiasm of a starving man. Awed yet horrified faces watched as Dean devoured the slice in a few heartbeats, his mutinous expression making it clear that no one had better interfere. He reached for the coffee while Cas was still staring and slurped noisily, just to be annoying.

He caught the agents’ expressions. Martinez was as stoic as ever, except for – yes, that was definitely the shadow of a smile just teasing his lips – and Ania was smirking, lifting her hands to show eight fingers. Dean snorted, spraying a few crumbs, ridiculously pleased to score eight on their grossness scale. Hey, waiting was boring, and they had devised little games to pass the time. It turns out they had a lot in common and the agent was surprisingly good at this game. He was just glad Cas had never come into the kitchen while they were scoring grossness points off each other. It was not a pretty sight, but it was hilarious.

 

*******

 

A few days later and Dean was beginning to miss the doctor. Or anything or anyone who could break the monotony of their daily lives. Well, not so much that, but that stressful waiting until they could put the plan into operation. Everyone else was carrying on, with some alterations to their routines, but he and Cas had remained in the Novak residence for the past week, and he was going a bit stir crazy. Cas was much more philosophical about the enforced stay, happy to be near Dean and being a bit clingy. Dean understood, and felt comforted by Cas’ presence. The present crisis had forced the issue between them. Not the best situation in which to declare one’s feelings, but for Dean it had actually made it easier to confess them. Not that it was ever going to be a romantic declaration.

As they sat in the kitchen finishing their pizza, Dean took a swig of his beer, then leant forward, elbows on the table, fiddling nervously with the bottle.

“Just so you know, Cas... Uhm, I really like you, so... yeah, once this shit is over, I do want to be your guide.”

Cas’ smile was practically incandescent. And like the sun, it radiated warmth into Dean. He felt Cas’ hands on his, stilling his fidgeting, and they sat like that, comforted and complete in each other’s company.

 

*******

 

Even at his most love happy Dean found the seclusion grating on his nerves. Cas’ presence made the ordeal infinitely more manageable, but Dean had always been an independent outdoor kinda guy, and he missed that. On top of that, everyone was understandably on alert, and that kind of environment did not make for a relaxed atmosphere. So each day was a strange mix of boredom and anxiety.

There were a few car trips to break up the monotony, scheduled in the hope that Crowley would make his move. No bites yet, but at least he got to see the outside world, albeit through tinted windows and accompanied by at least one agent. He was sure Crowley would spot the trap, and was starting to believe he might just give the whole thing up as too much trouble.

As he found himself yet again ruminating over this, whilst rummaging through the kitchen cupboards looking for snacks ( _hey, worrying about shit is hungry work_ ), Ania popped her head into the room.

“Hey, how about a quick trip to see Bobby?”

“Awesome. Let me just grab some chips.”

Dean followed Ania via the exit through the garage, and they were in the unmarked FBI SUV and driving out through the back of the house in barely a couple of minutes.

Dean turned round. He knew Martinez would ride with Cas, but they would have to remain at a discreet distance, so there was really no chance of him spotting them yet. Ania was turning onto the main road anyway, so the long drive was now hidden from sight. Didn’t stop him from yearning for a glimpse of their car though.

He settled back into the seat. Doubt and apprehension still lingered every time he stepped out of the house, notwithstanding all the contingency plans. So it was just as well he hadn’t had that coffee, or he’d be bouncing out of his seat. As it was, he kept turning round to check on their detail, though the road wound enough to make it difficult. He was about to ask Ania when he spotted it, and let out a sigh of relief. Just as he turned to the front, another familiar model was pulling up from the side of the road to forge ahead of them, except it simply stopped across their path, blocking their way. Instantly knowing something was wrong, Dean tensed, expecting Ania to swerve off the road and go round the blockade. But the car came to a stop. He looked to her and found tears running down her cheek.

“...Ania?”

She would not meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“What the hell?”

She turned to him then with an anguished cry.

“They have my daughter! I couldn’t...”

Just then the door was opened and Dean found himself manhandled out of the car. Ania was exiting from the other side, distraught and shouting –

“Where is she? Where is she?”

The car behind them had effectively boxed them in, and now a man exited leading a little girl of no more than five by the hand. Ania rushed over and scooped her up, kissing her head and whispering assurances. She cast one last anguished look at Dean and retreated to the car.

One of the men emerged from it with Ania’s mobile and her radio. Now there would be no way to communicate the situation. Dean tried in vain to catch Ania’s eye. He wanted her to know he didn’t blame her, but the distance now between them and the deployment of bodyguards around him made that impossible. He was hussled into the front car, hemmed in by two burly guys, and driven away to his new destination. He just hoped that damn chip was doing its job.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was surprising how dull a tense trip like that could get. Jammed between his jailors he could not even easily look out of the window, and there was nothing to engage his attention inside the car. He took stock of his situation, and reckoned it was still possible for the plan to work.

He assumed that Crowley’s men had found a way to stop Cas from following him, but felt sure in some indefinable way that he was unharmed and was surprised at the strength and confidence of that thought.

About twenty minutes later they stopped in the ass end of nowhere, where two dark blue sedans were waiting, and switched cars.

It was evening by the time they arrived at the house.

 

*******

 

Dean was only allowed a quick impression of a large mansion, with soft outdoor lights illuminating key features of the grounds and house, including a fountain of frolicking nymphs, before he was quickly bustled inside and escorted to a large lavish living room with patio doors looking out into the gardens.

As soon as he was left alone, he tested these. If there were any way to escape, the grounds seemed a better option than going back through the house. Of course, no such luck. At first he ignored the door he came through in favour of the only other exit left, only to be greeted by two raised eyebrows attached to two muscled behemoths. As he made his way to the last door without much hope, it opened and Crowley emerged. He smiled the same smug little smirk that made Dean want to punch the guy’s lights out.

“It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah, can’t say the same.”

Crowley waggled his finger in Dean’s direction, looking charmed and pleased.

“You see, that’s what I like about you. None of this kowtowing to sentinels. You’ve got attitude, kid, and I like my guide with a little spunk.”

Dean skewered him with a glare.

Crowley ignored the look, proceeding to the handsome oak table where a decanter kept company with two tumblers and poured himself a glass of whiskey. A little raised eyebrow and a pointed look to the other glass received an irritable shake of the head. Crowley smiled a little ruefully in defeat, shrugged and took a sip.

“Fifty years old, smooth as silk. Sure I can’t tempt you?”

Dean really, really wanted a glass, but damned if he was going to drink with this scumbag. That would feel like celebrating with him, or in some way conceding defeat.

“I’m sure.”

“I realise I’ve hardly made the best impression.”

“Really? What tipped you off? Was it the kidnapping of a five year old child to blackmail her mother?”

“I can assure you that if Agent Dziadulewicz had not complied with my request, I never would have hurt the child. I would have conceded temporary defeat and returned her.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that? You are so full of it.”

“Think about it, Dean. I’m hardly likely to commit such a heinous act that would brand me forever in your eyes as a monster.”

“Oh, that’s just the icing on the cake. How about all the guides you’ve been selling into slavery?”

“Is that what I’ve been doing?”

As Dean shot him a disgusted look, he raised his hands in the universal gesture of peace.

“I don’t deny for a second that I sell guides to sentinels, and I make no excuses for it. It pays very well. But if you think that the official channels are doing much better, think again.”

“I disapprove of a lot of shit that goes down in the sentinel community, but at least what they do is answerable to the law.”

“Is that so? You know the houses set up for sentinel and guide abuse. Do you really believe that most of the inmates have been victims of kidnapping, that they were sold off on the black market, that they were force bonded? I hate to shatter your idealistic illusions, but I have access to confidential information on those places, and the background of both victim and perpetrator, which I’m happy to share with you.”

He brought the glass to his lips, looking at Dean over the rim to gauge his interest. Dean crossed his arms and refused to give him the satisfaction. Crowley gave a little nonchalant shrug and continued.

“Most of those offenders are law enforcement officers, members of the army, and other such glorious ‘protectors’. And do you know why? Because being so fawned upon by our society, they get first pick of guides. That kind of entitlement breeds contempt, my dear. They don’t have to pay for them, or god forbid, bother to get to know them. They are just there so that they can do their glorious work, and if for some reason they fall short of expectation or might have wishes and opinions of their own, well, jolly bad luck.”

“Whereas your buyers are full of the milk of human kindness.”

“Hardly. But anyone who forks out a substantial amount of money for something, tends to appreciate it a lot more than someone who gets it for nothing. My buyers are rich. They have to be to afford my prices. They are the ones who did _not_ choose to enter one of the standard professions sentinels are expected to go for. Architects, lawyers, businessmen. You don’t get a bite of the cherry if you do that. You get left with what everyone else doesn’t want. And why should they settle for that?”

“Wow, doesn’t sound like a meat market at all when you say it.”

“Come now, they appreciate quality, as do I. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“So you doing a public service, is that it? Maybe the sentinel community needs a solid kick up the ass, but them being crap does not excuse what you are doing either.”

“You know, I’m almost sorry I won’t get to see you doing that kicking. It would have been bloody great.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, seriously considering some ass kicking right now. As if Crowley could sense his mood, he added –  

“Look, how about Mitch shows you to your rooms. I would love for us to dine together, but I suspect I would be wearing most of the food, so I’ll have some dinner sent up to you.”

Dean had been so angry he hadn’t realised how damned hungry he was. He wasn’t about to try and run away on an empty stomach.

“You need to keep your strength up if you are going to try to escape.”

So Crowley had added mind reading to his creepy résumé. Awesome.

Dean rolled his eyes as Crowley picked up a dainty silver hand bell and shook it. Like some fucking Edwardian toff rather than the criminal douchebag he was. Muscled behemoth number two, also known as Mitch, entered and proceeded to usher Dean out of the room and up the double staircase. Dean would appreciate this fine house a lot more if it wasn’t filled with Crowley’s men, and all the surreptitious looks he cast around for possible escape routes just highlighted the tight security of the place.

They climbed to the first floor and wandered a short way down the corridor before MB2 stopped at an open door, resumed the at-ease-but-ready-to-tackle-you-to-the-ground posture all the goons here seemed to favour, and waited patiently for Dean to enter. As soon as Dean crossed the threshold, he heard the door close behind him and the sound of a lock. Well, he might as well explore though escape options seemed to be thin on the ground.

Ten minutes later Dean was chowing down on the annoyingly delicious dinner that had been promised. He felt no compunction about moaning out loud, since he was on his own, and since the steak was the most tender and tasty he had ever had. Clearly Crowley had done some checking up on Dean’s tastes, the creepy fucker. Just before he had settled down to eat Dean had explored his rooms, and found a closet filled with the kind of clothes Dean favoured. Sure, there was the odd suit or two, but it mostly consisted of the comfortable and practical wear that Dean wore every day, though of a much higher quality than he could afford.

He tried not to wonder what was taking so long for the rescue party to get here. Maybe they were still on the way or were planning the best time to make their move. Or maybe Ania had been forced to reveal the presence of the chip. His hand automatically went to the back of his neck, which he realised was ridiculous since there was no way he could tell if the chip was working just by touch. Still, feeling the little bump felt like a promise of rescue, a physical link to his sentinel. He sighed and leaned back in the chair. It was late and this whole day had been exhausting. He levered himself up from the table with some effort, and was too tired to even bother with his usual routine. He just lay on the bed and was out like a light.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“..... by now? Why isn’t it working?”

The voice was jarring and getting louder. He had been aware of it peripherally for some time, but he hadn’t slept so deeply for a while and was loath to surface. Once he blocked out the annoying yammer he was aware of something else filtering through his senses, like a persistent whisper in his mind demanding attention. He still felt half asleep so at first it was hard to work out what was happening, but once he concentrated on it he felt ... open, like some indefinable barrier had been removed. That was enough to chase away any sleepy thoughts and he would have bolted upright there and then if some wary instinct hadn’t warned him to stay still.  

Which was damned hard as he realised that emotions not his own were flitting through him. He tried to calm himself. The feelings were intrusive and he could not shut them out, and although that was creepy as hell, he remembered that he had experienced something similar before, when he had just presented. Ok, so Loud Bastard was getting angrier and perhaps it was worth listening to that conversation.

“Of course they are not bonded! Do you take me for an idiot?”

“No, sir, of course not! If you are absolutely sure of that, then ...”

And Dean could sense the fury from ... Crowley, it was Crowley.

“What? Spit it out!”

“Uhm... well ... there is a very unlikely possibility that a pre-bonding has occurred. It is rare, but that would explain why you are unable to make the connection.”

Dean could practically taste the frustrated anger emanating from Crowley.

“And how do we break this?”

“Uhm, I’m sorry, sir, but I have no idea. We could use the standard drug, but since we would have to guess the dosage, it could be very dangerous for the guide.”

“No, we are bloody well not doing that! I don’t want Dean damaged. Shit!”

A tense silence followed, Crowley’s anger and the other person’s fear an unpleasant cocktail of emotions swirling in Dean’s mind.

“Fine, let’s see if separation will work to weaken their connection. We are leaving tomorrow at 09.00. Get the staff ready.”

Dean listened to the retreating footsteps and tried to keep control of his own anger. That conniving bastard had drugged him! Though he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Of course he would have a drug to lower a guide’s natural defences against an unwanted bond. Probably gave a free sample with every guide he sold, the weaselly little shit. He knew that no matter what, he had no intention of leaving with Crowley tomorrow. And if a connection was easier now that he had been drugged, well, maybe he could use that to try to contact his own sentinel. He had no idea how to do it, but he knew he missed Cas like crazy, so he took a deep breath and concentrated on that feeling of longing and desire and reached out with his whole being.

 

*******

 

Caltrops. Damn caltrops. If it wasn’t for Martinez’s skill the car would have veered off the road as it came round the bend. As it was, two punctures put paid to any attempt to follow Dean. They radioed in to the other car only to find out that had also suffered a similar fate.

A flurry of activity followed. The original ruse involved more safeguards of course, but notwithstanding the unexpected turn of events, they could still proceed as planned. Except there was no signal coming from Dean’s implant. Castiel tried to keep calm as the agents attempted to rectify the situation, checking all the equipment several times before admitting that something was blocking the signal.

Meanwhile a team dispatched to find Ania was met by her car coming back to the mansion and that’s when the full story came out. After receiving a text with her daughter’s photo she had been instructed to bring Dean out within ten minutes if she wished to see her again. She was forced to reveal the existence of the chip, although it was evident that Crowley was just getting confirmation of his own suspicions. He must have anticipated such a move, since the equipment to block the signal had clearly already been installed in the getaway car.

Castiel was sitting down dejectedly, not voicing what everyone else was feeling. That Dean would be expecting a rescue that was never coming. There was activity all round him, but he knew now that they were merely attempts to rescue the situation from failure. He was sure that the kidnappers would have switched cars as soon as possible, and that Crowley would not be found in any of the locations the FBI was searching. And even if some scrap of information could provide a lead, time was of the essence. After this stunt, Crowley would be poised to leave the country. His enterprises had garnered too much interest, and since his business empire was worldwide, cutting his losses in one territory made sense. There was no reason for him to delay his departure, especially since he now had what he wanted.

Castiel tried to think of any other way he could discover Dean, to try at least to keep his mind active and useful, and not succumb to anger or hopelessness. That would not help his guide. But his mind kept drifting to thoughts of Dean and what he might be going through right now, and he had to draw on all his strength to keep his focus. Hours passed in this agonising state of mind.

He was sitting alone, tactfully left in peace by the other officers, when their activity began to fade away into silence. The short hairs at the nape of his neck rose and he shivered as he lifted his head, and found himself staring into Dean’s eyes. Dean could not possibly be sitting across from him, looking as surprised as Castiel, but whatever this was it felt real. Both mind and body were attuned to Dean, and this was no empty vision brought on by wishful thinking. Before he could utter a word, Dean reached out, his hands seemed to grasp Castiel’s, and a stronger jolt of connection passed through them that made them both gasp.

“Sentinel Novak, is everything ok?”

Reality flooded back and he almost screamed in frustration as the image of Dean disappeared and the room and its occupants returned. But Dean had left something behind. He could feel it, like a thread linking them, guiding him. Cas knew he could find him now.

 

*******

 

Dean’s eyes snapped open. Wow, this guide shit was really weird. And fucking intense. He could still feel the phantom touch of Cas’ fingers, his startled eyes looking into his own. And that connection was still there, lingering in the back of his mind. Would this be enough for Cas to find him? He had to believe it. And whatever happened, he had to delay Crowley’s departure. Whatever the power of this link, he wasn’t sure it could survive a long distance separation. And Crowley definitely was counting on that.

As Dean sat up there was a knock on the door, immediately followed by its opening. Rude. One of Crowley’s goons walked in carrying a tray of breakfast food. The smell was enough to make Dean’s stomach rumble. He peeked at the contents, and his eyes feasted on rashers of crispy bacon, two overeasy eggs and hash browns. His mouth was already watering, but there was no way he was risking eating anything else. Crowley had tried drugging him to lower his natural defences, and Dean wouldn’t put it past him to slip him something again, maybe just to make him more manageable prior to their removal.

So he waited until he was alone in the room, then as quietly as possible jammed a chair back against the door handle. The plush carpet was perfect for disguising noises and would provide slight friction at anyone’s attempt to enter, giving him a few seconds of warning. Although with any luck he might not even need that. It would make sense for them to keep him in the room until all preparations were in place, and then escort him out. He was counting on that.

He went to the window, opened it and leant out as far as he could, checking below and to the sides to make sure no one happened to be looking his way. When it was clear that anyone around was busy with preparations to leave, he turned to look upwards. Yesterday evening a fleeting glimpse had shown him a peaked roof with two old fashioned brick chimneys. From his position he could see the very top of one of them. The building itself looked to offer very few frankly treacherous hand and foot holds, but luckily there was some fancy ass but sturdy looking projecting ledge running round the outside of the house, which he hoped was going to bear his weight. He shuffled on his bottom on the window ledge until he could lower himself the couple of feet to the jutting frame, then gingerly tested it before letting go.

He carefully hugged the wall and made his way along more slowly than he liked, wondering if at any moment he was going to hear a shout of discovery, until he came to the lowest edge of the roof, which he now could easily reach. He hefted himself the short distance and scrambled up on all fours. Once he reached the first chimney, he checked to make sure which angle would hide him best from anyone searching for him from below, but still give him a reasonable view of anyone trying to reach him. He settled down and prayed that the delay would be enough.

 

*******

 

“.... surrounded by MORONS!”

Well, it hadn’t taken as long as Dean hoped for the shit to hit the fan. He didn’t catch the start of Crowley’s rousing speech, but as the volume increased the last part became loud and clear. Any other time he’d find it amusing, but the stakes were a little too high for comfort. He wiped his sweating palms on his jeans, made sure he was tucked well out of sight, and remained hyper vigilant.

Crowley was, after all, a sentinel. If his senses were good enough, he could hunt him down. Though even in that worst case scenario, Dean knew his position would make it difficult for anyone to try and oust him, certainly without risking damage. He hoped instead that they would waste time searching the house and grounds, and since these were generous, it would take some time, even with Crowley’s manpower.

But even as that thought went through his mind, he clearly heard Crowley’s voice bidding everyone be still and quiet. The general hubbub died down at once and an eerie silence descended. Dean could hear his own elevated heart beat and tried to breathe slowly and calmly, but that went to shit when he heard Crowley’s clear tones.

“Dean, I know you are on the roof. Please don’t make me come and get you.”

“That’s the only damn way I’ll be coming down!”

Dean smirked at Crowley’s profuse swearing. Whatever happened it was good to know he had at least thrown a spanner in the works. He could hear him talking to his goons, followed by sounds of activity. Then silence. He was beginning to dislike that ominous absence of sound. Crowley was up to something and he remained alert to any attempt to reach him. A few minutes passed, then Dean heard the unmistakeable sounds of a helicopter approaching. For one heart leaping moment, he thought the white hats had finally arrived, until he noticed there were no markings on the black copter. And a man at the door with ... a weird ass frikking _gun_? Before Dean’s brain had caught up, his view was filled with a rapidly expanding net fired in his direction. Dean tried to evade it, but snuggled as he was against one of the chimneys he was trapped against it. As he struggled to escape the mesh without falling off the roof, he could see the goon had landed a few feet away, still safely connected to his abseiling kit and quickly advancing on his position. Shit!

Just as he came within reach Dean managed to kick his leg from under him sending him temporarily over the side. He then cursed loudly as his foot tangled in the net, and by the time he managed to free it, the goon was grabbing for him again. Most of Dean’s body was still caught in the web but he had managed to free one arm and got hold of one of the weighted corners of the net. He now swung this and hit his opponent heavily on the side of the head. The guy slumped over the side, now dangling like a rag doll from his rope.

As Dean managed to wriggle out of the net he could see from the corner of his eye the unconscious guy being winched upwards. Dean quickly eyed the copter and yep, there was another one getting ready to abseil down to replace goon number one. Crap! He just managed to grab the net, wondering if he could use it against him, when goon two’s boots landed with a thud a few feet away. Dean leant his back against the chimney, adjusted his foot hold, held tight onto the net, and prepared to hold off the bastard as long as he could.

Goon two was not taking any chances. Either the fate of the previous guy had rattled him, or having lost the advantage of the net, he was being careful with Crowley’s precious guide. Dean was ok with that. But just as the man took one step towards him, he stopped in his tracks and brought his hand to his ear piece. He shouted a response after listening for barely a few seconds. Dean couldn’t really hear anything, what with the copter rotors whirring noisily overhead, but the man’s expression was grim. Before Dean could work out what was going on, the man was being winched back. As soon as he was inside the helicopter, it swung sideways towards the large green swathe of the back garden, where a harried looking Crowley was shouting and gesticulating. And just beyond him on the horizon two helicopters were making a bee line for the mansion. As Dean watched with an elated smile on his face, he could just glimpse a line of cars making their way towards the house.

_About frikking time!_

He watched as Crowley climbed into the copter, lifting up as soon as his foot left the ground. One of the helicopters immediately veered off in his direction and followed. The other landed in the garden, dispersing whatever goons were around. Not that they could get very far, considering the flotilla of cars swarming the road out of the mansion.

And Dean’s grin widened. He had felt Cas’ presence like a breath of desperately needed air, and now there he was climbing out of the copter with his gaze focused on Dean. Dean slung one half of the netting over the chimney and took advantage of the two weighted ends in the corners to help anchor it there before clambering down holding onto the rest of the mesh. He could sense Cas’ worry, but there was no way he was going to wait to be winched off the roof like some kind of damsel in distress. And anyway, now the pressure was off, this was a walk in the park.

He retraced his steps and disappeared into the building, rushing down the stairs as he heard the front door open. And there was Cas, with his blinding smile, running towards him.

They fell into each other’s arms, while agents poured in and spread out throughout the mansion.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, my god, this is the best thing ever!”

Or at least Cas thought that’s what Dean was saying, judging by his blissed out expression and chipmunk filled cheeks. Sam was looking on, a relieved smile vying with the horrified look in his eyes which conveyed what he thought of his brother’s table manners. The agents were still checking out the mansion and processing the perps, but Dean had been so hungry that as soon as he had managed to untangle himself from Cas he had dragged him in search of the kitchen. He knew Crowley had done his homework, so there was likely delicious Dean style food waiting for him. Hopefully without added drugs, but his sentinel could sniff those out, so there.

When he finally managed to find it, he dived into the fridge and pantry and brought out the burgers and buns. A few minutes later he was shovelling away, while Cas and Sam picked at their food in desultory bites.

Dean watched with a frown. “What the hell’s the matter? These are delicious!”

Sam put down his barely eaten burger with a disbelieving sigh. “How can you eat? I just....”

“Dude, I’m hungry and I didn’t have breakfast.” He cast a long look at Sam, seeing the worry and stress he had been under.

“I’m fine, Sammy. It’s all over now” – and then checking with Cas – “It is, isn’t it?”

Before he could reply, Martinez poked his head into the kitchen.

“Hello there big guy! It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

Dean waved him in and gestured to another chair at the table, but the agent politely declined.

“Thought you might like to know that Crowley has been caught and he’s on his way to a secure facility.”

“Awesome! C’mon guys, all the more reason to chow down. And there’s blueberry pie.”

Dean gleefully tucked back into his meal, and his sanguine attitude removed any further worries Cas and Sam might have had. Whatever had happened in the mansion, clearly Dean seemed unharmed. Cas was going to get every single detail of his stay out of him, though he suspected that any attempt to offer counselling would be met with a snort.

Dean invited Martinez to at least grab a slice of pie, but again he declined. Yeah, it wasn’t Dean’s imagination that the man seemed a little uncomfortable, and looked more serious than ever.

“Hey, what’s up? This should be happy news, right?”

“I don’t know if anyone has had a chance to tell you, but agent Dziadulewicz is under suspension pending a full investigation.”

“Dude, what the hell? That was not her fault!”

There was a visible release of tension from Martinez’s massive shoulders and his eyes softened when he looked at Dean.

“I hoped you wouldn’t hold it against her. It would help her case if you were to give a statement in her defence.”

“Damn straight I will! Is she.... I mean obviously she’s not ok, but she’s not under arrest or something, right?”

“No, she’s at home with her daughter. They are both pretty shook up, but ... I think they’ll be ok. She’s a good agent. The bureau will lose out if they let her go.”

“We’ll make sure they don’t.”

Martinez nodded, a minute smile on his lips, then returned to his duties.

Dean began demolishing his slice of pie, while Cas foraged among the cupboards for coffee. They were going to be here a while, might as well get comfortable.

 

There were interviews and debriefings. Collection of evidence included Dean having a blood test for Crowley’s drug, traces of which would definitely still be in his system. Another bit of evidence to nail in the bastard’s coffin. Luckily there was more latitude when sentinels and guides were concerned and they were able to leave for home after a couple of hours. There would doubtless be further interviews but these could wait at present.

By the time they got home, all Dean wanted to do was sleep. And snuggle up with his sentinel. Cas was more than willing to oblige.

 

*******

 

Dean woke up to the comforting warmth of a body suction cupped to his back and a strong arm spot welded to his middle. Also, there was snuffling going on, and the nape of his neck was getting goose bumps.

“Cas, this is awesome, but I need to pee.”

The arm reluctantly loosened and there was a little sigh of protest as Dean moved to get up. Dean looked back to Cas, expecting a barely awake sleep mussed mess, like himself. Instead there was a hyper aware sentinel following every minute movement Dean was making. Intense didn’t even begin to cover the feeling of being visually devoured.

“Come back to bed after, Dean.”

Wow, that voice was making it difficult to walk. Dean nodded, not trusting his own voice, and scampered inelegantly to the en suite bathroom. Everything felt heightened, the colours around him sharper. He was very aware of his own breathing and the prickle of sweat at the back of his neck.

When he stepped back out he saw that Cas had used the time to divest himself of every stitch of nightwear, and now there was a very naked, very interested sentinel patting the mattress in obvious invitation.

Dean wasted no time in ridding himself of his t-shirt and boxers, slipping in bed and trying to get as much of his skin plastered to Cas as possible. After some fevered fondling Dean came up for air.

“So, uhm, this bonding ... I know there’s a lot of sniffing involved.”

“Scenting, Dean. It’s called scenting.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Whatever.

“And licking.”

Cas watched him narrowly, as if he thought Dean was taking the piss. But Dean was merely excited, and ok, maybe a little bit nervous. Not about the sex part, obviously, but he didn’t really know much about the process. He might have, in moments of intrigued curiosity, have visited a few porn sites devoted to sentinel/guide bonding, and yeah, ok, he was aware that it was hardly research (though he could still remember that one with the really hot sentinel bringing the guide off with the best rimming scene he’d ever seen and wondered if that might be in his immediate future).

There was a very audible sniff. Cas was staring at him with a rather focused expression.

“You are highly aroused.”

“Nothing gets past you, Cas. And all this talk about licking sure ain’t helping.”

“Tasting, Dean. It’s called...”

“It’s called teasing me to death, Cas! Can we get down to it already?”

Cas’ smile was predatory. He effortlessly flipped Dean onto his back ( _hello, manhandling kink_ ) and swiftly straddled him.

“I must explore you with all my senses in order to imprint on you. Shall we start with sight?”

There was definitely a mischievous glint in Cas’ eye when he caught Dean’s obvious frustration.

“Cas, you’d better be joking right now.”

The words were barely out when Cas’ warm solid frame descended on his, soft lips silencing any further comments. Cas proceeded to drive Dean out of his mind with feather soft applications of said lips and a maddening teasing tongue to all the areas Dean had wished them to be, and some he had never dreamt of. He was very thorough in his explorations, and made up for any so called teasing with energy and enthusiasm.

Dean had never experienced such intense body worship and was soon reduced to a puddle of sated overstimulated goo. The connection slowly cementing between them was adding to the swirl of sensations, yet at no stage did he feel overwhelmed, but rather revelled in knowing he was so cherished. It felt like coming home.

 

Cas was true to his promise and at no stage did he utter the word ‘copulation’, although ‘fuck’ did slip through breathless lips on several occasions.

 

*******

 

It was customary for a newly bonded pair to spend several days secluded together to cement their bond. Cas and Dean got three days before the fallout from the raid winkled them out of their blissful nest.

The newspapers were having a field day with such a juicy story, and though they made the most of the villains of the piece, they also doted on the heroes.  Sam had been sending excited texts with links to the latest developments, even though Dean’s replies had consisted of invitations to kindly leave them the fuck alone. But that answer would not do when the Sentinel Prime called and invited them both to be part of a committee set up to investigate solutions and implement changes to the current system. The sentinel community was reeling after the recent revelations, and while condemning those connected with Crowley, it had praised Castiel as an exemplary sentinel for his part in his downfall. The upshot was that the more reactionary elements had been silenced and those keen on change could finally have their chance.

When Cas ended the call, Dean’s evil grin convinced him that the community was going to get that kick up the backside, and about time too.

 

 

**Two months later**

 

Cas collapsed on the couch with a grunt, throwing his briefcase down next to him. Dean sauntered over with a couple of beers and handed him one.

He sighed and accepted the proffered bottle, pushing the cold glass against his forehead.  Even if Dean had not been his guide, that would have been enough indication of the kind of day Cas had experienced.

“Gabriel is driving me crazy.”

“Figured as much.”

Cas had been delighted when Gabe had offered to help. He had a keen mind and it was good to see his interest engaged. But his mischievous nature and his sharp wit had already ruffled quite a few feathers, and Cas found himself spending way too much time having to smooth them.

“Well, I told Sammy you were having some issues with him, and he got his serious determined look on, and marched off to talk to him. So I’m expecting he appointed himself Gabe’s personal assistant even as we speak.”

Cas’ look was almost pained. “Should you not have warned him?”

“He’s your brother. On his head be it.”

Cas rolled his eyes. They were getting a lot of exercise these days.

“You know who I meant. Gabe is ... Gabe.”

“Dude, trust me, Sammy will steamroller him with his enthusiasm and knowledge and puppy eyes. He has an arsenal of tricks of his own to get what he wants.”

They both took a long swig of their bottles.

“And if that doesn’t work, he’ll probably just sit on the little bugger.”

Some of the tension left Cas as he laughed at the image, Dean smiling at him fondly. They leisurely finished their beer, then Dean took both their bottles and placed them on the coffee table.

“So, we have a couple of hours until Sam and Bobby come for dinner. How about a bath with those fancy ass scented candles you like?”

Cas could sense the sudden spike of arousal as Dean held his hand out to him. He took the opportunity to pull Dean down for a kiss.

“Join me?” he whispered into his mouth.  

“Hell, yeah.”

 

 


End file.
